


After All These Years

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: Mulder and Scully have been together for a long time now, but sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same.





	After All These Years

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The X-Files or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

Of course she remembered January 2000.  That was when things started between them, at least officially.  In reality, things started much earlier, anywhere from March 1992 on, depending on how you looked at it, and Scully really couldn’t pinpoint the time or the date when she and Mulder became the most important people in each other’s worlds.  It was easier to pinpoint something more tangible, less abstract, so for that there was January 2000, when they’d slept together for the first time.  January 3, 2000, if you wanted to be really precise, although they had fooled around some on the first and second.  They were at her apartment, when it finally happened, and she still remembered it all so well.  “So this is it, huh?” she said, when they’d made their way from the living room to her bedroom, when they were taking a brief break from kissing desperately so that they could start in on each other’s clothes.

“Yeah, Scully,” he said.  “This is it.”  And then he kissed her again, so sweetly she thought she might die.  Even though she knew that didn’t happen—people didn’t die from sweet kisses—for a moment she believed it. 

And of course she still remembered what came after that.  How the night went beyond anything she’d expected or even dreamed, how it both surprised her and felt familiar in all the best ways.  How they fell asleep next to each other and then he kissed her awake in the middle of the night and then they made love again.

She remembered the time after that, too, everything that led from then to now.  Those five months in 2000, when they were still new lovers, finally admitting how they felt about each other, barely capable of keeping their hands off each other, wanting to try everything.  The two of them back together in 2002, that wild first night on the road and then a succession of other nights, other motels; it wasn’t always the same but it always seemed to end up with them clinging to each other, cherishing each other, each knowing that the other was all they had.  Late in 2006, in the house they’d found together; she was cooking on the first night, just some plain pasta but they had a home now, and he came up and picked her up and put her on the kitchen counter, and she couldn’t stop giggling the whole time.  Close to ten years in that house, making a life, making memories, until it stopped working.  That wasn’t something you could pinpoint the day to either, even if she’d wanted to, even if she’d ever wanted to believe that things could end between them.  But she was right not to want to believe it, after all, because things didn’t really end.  Here they were now, in 2016, and things were starting anew.  The first time was in one of those familiar crappy motels, when they were on a case; they’d checked in around two AM, after their first hotel turned out to be full of peepholes, and when he started to say good night to her she grabbed him and kissed him and there they were, surprising each other all over again.  There were more times after that, the two of them working their way back towards each other.  She still kept her apartment in the city, for now, since it made it easier to get to work.  But she spent all the weekends, at least, back at their house.

So here they were.  Sixteen years on.  Only stronger for all of it, or at least she liked to think so.  It was a Saturday morning, and Scully was stretched out on the living room couch, still in her pajamas, doing the crossword in the newspaper. 

“Nine down is sloth.”  Mulder was leaning over her.

“I know.”  Scully filled it in.

“And twenty-five across is masquerade.”

“I hadn’t gotten there yet,” Scully said, frowning at him.  “Don’t backseat crossword.”  She tossed him the rest of the newspaper.  “Here, read something.”  She shifted on the couch, drawing in her feet to make room for him beside her.  They sat like that for a while, drinking their coffee, each intent on their own section of the paper.  She’d always loved talking with him—it was his mind that made her want him, really, before anything else—but sometimes just proximity was enough.  At least in moments like this, when she could press her feet against his leg, when they would catch each other’s eye and smile as they looked up from the paper, when, as now, he leaned over and quickly kissed her cheek.  She leaned in too, thinking that she would return the same kind of chaste kiss, but at the last moment she changed her mind.  She kissed his lips, slowly, tenderly, trying to show him just how happy she was that they had this again.

He was happy about it too, if his response was anything to go by.  He kissed her back, his arms reaching around to pull her to him.  She sighed, smiling into the kiss, as one of his hands came up and stroked her hair.  Back in 2000, she wouldn’t have been satisfied with this slow kissing; she would have been tugging at his shirt by now, probably, asking him for more.  But here in 2016, she was content for the moment, to sit here and to kiss and hold each other, that comforting, familiar touch.

Not that she minded, either, when Mulder started placing kisses elsewhere: along her jaw, down her neck.  Slow, slow, slow; yes, they could be patient these days.  A warm, happy feeling inside her, one she knew well, just the beginning of her body’s response.  “Mulder,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. 

“Do you want to do this, Scully?” he asked, in between kisses.  “Or do you want to finish your crossword?”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” she said, laughing, as he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot.  “Such a hard choice.”

“Well, you just let me know when you figure it out,” he said.  “I’ll be right here.”  He started to move away, smiling at her teasingly, and she pulled him back towards her and kissed him again.

“This,” she said.  “I want to do this.”

His smile wasn’t teasing now; it was full and happy, an expression that she loved seeing on him.  “Me too,” he said.  “Back to bed?”

“Yeah,” she said.

She held his hand in hers as they made their way upstairs to the bedroom.  Another shift: in their first days together, they’d have gotten into it right there on the couch, not wanting to wait, not wanting anything to come between them and being together, touching each other, right there right now.  Now, though—well, on the practical level, they weren’t as young as they had once been.  It was better to be somewhere more comfortable, somewhere with room to spread out, without any concerns about falling off if you made a sudden movement.  And they each knew, by now, that a few minutes didn’t make any difference, because the other would always be there.  They’d made that promise many times.  Usually they hadn’t said it in so many words, but recently Scully had felt the need to make it explicit.  It had been their fifth time back together, the second time she’d been back at the house.  She’d said it then, as they were lying next to each other: “I’m not going anywhere, Mulder.  I’m staying with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere either,” he’d said, squeezing her hand tightly, and then neither of them had known what more to say, so they’d just held each other close.

Mulder held her close now as they moved onto the bed.  She reached out to touch him in return, her hands moving along his back, slow, gentle touches as they kissed.

She reached for his t-shirt, beginning to pull it up.  “I want to see you,” she said.  “I want to touch you.”

“Scully.”  Another soft kiss, and then he moved back to help her off with his shirt.

“Lie back,” she said, and once he was leaning against the pillows she began to run her hands down his chest.  She wanted to be thorough today.  So she stroked her fingers through the graying hair, following her hands with her lips.  She slid her tongue lightly over a nipple, felt him shiver, and did it again.  He was murmuring her name now and stroking at her hair, and God, she felt so close to him.

She was kissing down his abdomen, lightly, teasingly, when he said, “Scully…come here.”  And when she lifted her head up to look at him, he pulled her towards him, going to work on the buttons of her pajama top.  “You don’t get to have all the fun, you know,” he said, smiling at her.

She smiled back.  “You weren’t having fun just now?”

“Oh, Scully,” he said.  “I always have fun with you.” 

“Me too.”

“You always have fun with you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes back at him.

“You know what I mean,” she said, but at that point he had her top off and was cupping her breasts in his hands, and she didn’t exactly feel inclined to pursue any kind of discussion.  He knew the touches she liked, just gentle at first, his fingers tracing light patterns on her breasts while he went back to kissing her neck.  And when she murmured “More,” he knew what to do then too.  She leaned back on the bed, closing her eyes, giving herself up to the feeling: his mouth on one of her nipples while his hand squeezed her other breast.  “That’s good, Mulder,” she sighed.  “That’s it…”  Just his touch, building her up, getting her excited, ready for more.

“You’re so beautiful, Scully,” he whispered, and she always felt like she was, with him.  That part wasn’t different, not at all; it was just the same as it had been in their first days as lovers.  She’d worried for a minute or two, that first night at the motel: not that it had been that long, in the grand scheme of things, and she knew she took care of herself, but there was a difference between seeing someone’s body every day and seeing it for the first time in almost a year, and maybe it was a little silly but she wanted this to be special, and she wanted to see him, she knew she’d like what she saw no matter what and she just wanted him to like what he saw too…Anyway, there hadn’t been any reason to worry.  He still looked at her the same way, with love, with want, and she never worried for a moment that he didn’t mean it when he said that. 

“You too,” she said.  “So beautiful.”  Because he always was to her.  Everything about him.  “That feels so good,” she murmured, as his mouth found her other breast, and he grinned up at her before he went back to what he was doing, licking, sucking, stroking, mouth and hands working together. 

She reached for Mulder’s shorts then, working them over his hips and down his legs.  He was beginning to get hard from their activities, and she put her hand on his cock, just light touches at first.  Just a little teasing.  God knows he’d teased her often enough over the years.

“Scully.”  Her name said on a breath, faint.  A little pleading.

“Yes?” she asked.  She moved her hand along his shaft, a bit faster now, a bit more firmly.  She stroked the head with her thumb; he was growing harder under her touch.  This part took longer now, for both of them, than it had in those first days, but she wasn’t about to complain about that.  It wasn’t bad, the difference: it was something that just was, that happened naturally.  Of all the things that could happen to their bodies, she’d far rather this than something she couldn’t explain, some insidious disease or mysterious change that sent them scrambling for answers and cures, something that marked them as living a life outside the norm.  This—well, it happened to all couples, if they were together long enough.  And now the two of them had been.  Long enough in that sense, at any rate, although she wanted them to be together for much, much longer.  To still be doing this in a nursing home, maybe, sneaking around behind the nurses’ backs.  She let out a laugh at the thought.

“Something funny, Scully?” Mulder asked.  He’d closed his eyes, briefly, as she was stroking him—she’d gotten up a steady rhythm now, and she could feel him hardening in her hand—but he opened them now, looking at her face.

“I was just thinking,” she said, “about us doing this in a nursing home someday.  Sneaking around.”  A bit of a non sequitur, maybe, but she knew he’d go with it.

And he did.  “Why would we have to sneak around?” he asked.  “Is there someone else I don’t know about?”

Scully made a face at him for that, ran a finger over a sensitive spot, heard him let out a moan.  “There might be rules.  Not that they can enforce them.  A lot of sex goes on in nursing homes.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.  “Oh yeah.  A lot of STDs, actually.  It’s a real problem.”

Mulder made a face back at her, his expression changing to one of pleasure when she bent her head and ran her tongue over the tip of his cock.  “As enticing as you make it sound…oh, Jesus, Scully…I think…oh…I think I’d rather we stay here.  If it’s all the same…oh…to you.”

“Hmm,” she said around his cock, before releasing him briefly.  “You surprise me, Mulder.  I thought you’d be all for that kind of licentious lifestyle.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he pulled her to him and kissed her.  “All I need is you and me, Scully.  Unless you have plans to throw me in a nursing home when I get old whether I like it or not.  Since you’re so much younger and all.”

“That three years makes a real difference,” she said smilingly, before returning the kiss.  “But no, I’ll let you stay here.  I bet we can find plenty of licentious things to do in this house.”

“I’m sure of it,” he said, and then his hands were on her pajama bottoms, working them down.  And he touched her.  His fingers first.  A very slow touch, a very light one, brushing up her inner thighs and then gently over her labia.  “How about this?” he asked.  “How do you feel about this kind of licentiousness?”  He whispered those last words, his lips against her ear.

“Good,” she said, and her breath hitched as he began to circle her clitoris with his thumb.  “I feel…mmm…very good about it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and his breath on her ear would have made her shiver all on its own.  “What else would you feel good about?”

“Your mouth,” she murmured.  “I want your mouth on me.”  He grinned and started kissing down her body, and she sighed, leaning back against the pillows.  And then his mouth was where his hand had been, and she did more than sigh, squirming atop the bed, letting out an “Oh!” as Mulder licked at her clit.  That was it, the touch of his tongue, familiar now but never any less wonderful than it had been that first night.  “So good,” she told him, “so good,” because it was, all of it, his mouth in between her legs and his hands at her hips, and she wouldn’t ever have wanted it to end except that she wanted to make love with him, right now, and any sense of patience she might have felt earlier was gone.  “Come up here,” she managed to gasp out.

Mulder moved up the bed towards Scully, kissing her again while she fumbled to open the drawer of the bedside table.  Her things were back in there now, and she reached around blindly—glasses case, phone charger, two pens, _there_ was the lube.  She took the tube from the drawer and squeezed some into her hand to apply it.  Mulder stopped kissing her long enough to take the lube from her, and when they were both ready she moved to straddle him, taking his cock in her hand to guide it inside her slowly.

And when they moved together…well, it was special and not at the same time.  It was just another morning, nothing crazy happening to them this time, no triumph to celebrate or grief to chase away.  It was how things were meant to be between the two of them, how things were going to be now, because she knew that they were both determined not to give up on this.  But just because it wasn’t unusual didn’t mean that it couldn’t be somehow special, still, because there were 7.4 billion or more sentient beings in the universe, depending on whom you asked, and somehow she’d found this man.  Somehow they’d found each other, way back when, and they’d never known it would lead to any of this, and she couldn’t be anything but glad.  Not right now, with Mulder gasping out “Scully” as he came, a look of such love on his face, and then his fingers on her clit bringing her along with him.  Oh yes.

“We should get up,” she said, after they’d lain there for a few minutes with her head against his chest.  “Start the day.”

“Yeah,” he said.  But before they did, she kissed him again.   She couldn’t count all the kisses they’d shared, but she didn’t want to.


End file.
